Marie
by DemonsArePersonal
Summary: Years have passed and Sam's no longer a kid, playing a less active role at WOOHP so that she can raise her daughter, Marie, as a single mom. Lately, Marie hasn't been too happy-her mom avoids talking about her dad and with the Father's Day picnic coming up Marie feels his absence all the more. That is until she meets someone from Sam's past who may be the key to her all questions.
1. Chapter 1

Helloo! It's been a might loooooong time. Here's a new fic that actually has been stuck in development for 3 years. More information about this fic and my others ones at the bottom. See you there!

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"Hey, Mom?!"

"Yeah, hun?"

"When are we gonna go to the picnic today?"

"Uh… what picnic?" Sam pretended to forget and watched in amusement as the little girl screwed up her face and let out a huff.

"Mom," she drawled out, "the picnic at my school. You promised you'd bring brownies, remember?"

"Oh, that picnic?" she said in mock realization, "Darn it, I completely forgot."

Marie was shocked, how could her mother possibly forget such an important event? "You forgot? How? I reminded you a bajillion times, Mom! Oh no, what about the brownies? Did you make 'em? You promised!"

"Sweetie, I'm just teasing," Sam reassured. "Look on the windowsill."

On the windowsill rested three pans of cooling brownies. In her excitement, Marie hadn't noticed them.

The phone rang and the girl raced to grab it. "Remember to ask who it is!" Sam yelled.

Marie answered the phone and in her most polite tone said: "Simpson residence, Marie speaking." But the other end was silent and even after several questioning 'hellos' no reply came after which the girl hung up. She absolutely hated picking up the phone expecting to talk to someone and then having to hang up when no one answered. However, when her mother wasn't around, she would talk into the device and ask the silent speaker several questions. Questions about them.

She walked slowly back into the kitchen and sat in her chair with a tiny bit of effort.

"Who was it?"

"I think it was daddy."

Sam hesitated for a second but then resumed her task of preparing breakfast. "Marie, not again," she pleaded tiredly.

"It was! I bet it was Daddy! He always calls but he never says anything!"

"It wasn't Dad, okay?"

"No, it was Mom! It was him—I can tell!

"Marie…"

"Mommy, why doesn't he ever say anything?"

Sam let out a sigh. Seeing as Father's Day was right around the corner and the annual Father's Day picnic at her preschool was today, Marie had begun her usual tirade of questions. Sam couldn't for the life of her understand why her preschool sought to arrange regular events during the summer break which all students were encouraged to attend. What ever happened to forgetting about school for a month or two? Sam lightly smiled at the irony of such a thought entering _her_ mind.

Marie slumped her head onto her arms and through squished cheeks said in an almost whisper, "He never calls… Never."

That statement always prickled Sam's chest.

Trying to steer the conversation in another direction, she downed a glass of water and briskly turned towards her daughter, handing her a hot breakfast of oatmeal and eggs and preparing for the worst. As Marie began to slowly eat, already distraught by the day's impending event and a little worse for wear after the phone call incident, Sam tried to find the words that would almost surely put her daughter in a grimmer mood. "Hun," she started while sitting down next to her, "I…I don't think I'll be able to make it for today's picnic—

Marie shot her head up, wide-eyed. "Mom, you promised!"

"I know, honey, I'm so sorry—it's work and it's really important. But Dean said he could take you."

"Dean?" the girl repeated, a little sadder.

"Yeah, he said he was free this afternoon and that he was really looking forward to it. I know you're upset that I'm not coming but you like Dean, don't you?"

"Yeah, but…"

"And he really loves you, you know that. He always asks about you at work," Sam said, smiling.

"I know, and I love him too but it's a Father's Day picnic," she emphasized, "and my dad won't come and my mom won't come…"

Sam pulled the little girl into herself and gave her a tight squeeze and stroked her hair. "I'm sorry, honey," she said quietly and softly kissed her head.

"S'okay," she said but it wasn't, not really. Sam promised to try and swing by later on if she could, but it didn't really make matters any better. For all that Marie talked about her father calling her up or coming to one of her school events or home for the holidays, she knew he never would—her mother's reluctance to speak about him made her sure of that—but she at least figured that today would be a day she would spend with her mother. Recently, Sam had become increasingly busy at work and started to drop the girl off at her parents where she would often spend the night and weekends. And when she could, she'd pick Marie up from daycare but fall dead tired on the couch. There had been very little mother-daughter bonding for the past while.

Around nine Sam called up Dean to remind him that she'd drop Marie off at his place at 11:00 a.m. and where and when they needed to be at the picnic. "Dean, I feel horrible for not taking her—"

"Sam," his voice came over the phone warm and soft, "I know things have been pretty tough lately, but work—WOOHP—this time it's important. You're doing this for Marie as well. You have to do everything you can to keep her safe and away from all this."

She let out a sigh. "Yeah, I know. I—I just hate that I've been neglecting her; I drop her off at my parents, at your place. She's really upset with me but she keeps it all bottled up so I don't worry…"

"That's how some kids are Sam—especially Marie—they get upset but they don't say anything. But once this is over—and it will be soon—you'll be home more and she'll forget all about it. Kids are resilient that way. I should know, I've been babysitting siblings, nieces and nephews since I was old enough to make toast."

Dean chuckled and Sam couldn't help but smile. "I'll try to drop by before it's over. Just make sure you keep an eye on her, okay? I've been a little on edge since all this started."

"Yeah, I know what you mean; it's nerve-wracking alright. Don't worry, I'll hover over her like a hawk." Sam let out a small laugh. "You know I think of her like my own kid. God knows she might be the only semblance of one I ever have."

"I feel old when childless people say that, and it's horrible because we're practically the same age!"

"I have a few years on you" he said, to which Sam reminded him a few meant three. And that he'd eventually have children if he could learn to settle down.

"Sam, about that—

And there it was. Again.

"We'll be at your place in a bit, k? See you soon." She hurriedly put down the phone and wondered how'd she'd walked into that one.

Sam rushed up the narrow stairwell to her daughter's room to make sure she was getting ready. She saw Marie looking at her clothes and accessories with furrowed brows and secretly wondered if Clover was a bad influence.

Sam showered and slipped into a blue v-neck sundress and a white three-quarter sleeve sweater. She planned on finishing work early and spending most of the day with Marie so getting dressed at home instead of work seemed a bit more sensible.

Marie walked into her mother's room, jumped onto the bed, and watched her do her make-up. "Mom, can I put on some lip gloss?"

"Mare, you're only six!" she said in disbelief. "At your age I was putting on cherry chap-stick."

Marie rolled her eyes and fell back on the bed with a loud 'argh'. Clover really was a bad influence; Sam would have to lecture her friend on the impressionability of children later on.

The ride to Dean's place was quiet and Sam would occasionally give a sideways glance to her daughter who sullenly looked out the window. She didn't doubt the resiliency of kids but Mare was hardly an ordinary child. Intellect ran in the veins of this particular family and so Mare was a studious and well-read kid for her age. She was in tune with emotions most of her peers couldn't quite understand because of things she'd read and experienced in her short life, and because she was always surrounded by adults—her mother's friends and their family. However, this deeper understanding of life left her a little secluded from her peers. She wanted to make friends but it was hard for her to approach her classmates and outside of school she only had one real friend.

The car pulled into the driveway of a small and modern bungalow but Marie sat still inside until her mother had to convince her to get out. She said she didn't want to go to the picnic if her mother wasn't going to be there. Besides the fact that the other kids would make fun of her for not having a single parent at a Father's Day picnic, she would feel bad if Dean tried to cheer her up when she knew that she couldn't be consoled. She was really looking forward to the event so that she could show off her mother to the other kids and just spend the day having fun with her, but that was hardly possible no matter if her mother said she would come later—she always promised to finish work early but never did.

"Mare, I really am trying my best," Sam pleaded as the two walked up the small pathway to the front door, but all she received was a small sigh in response.

Dean was enthusiastic and little by little Marie came out of her morose mood, she even laughed when he made a few jokes. Seeing that things had cooled down, Sam left for work determined to finish up early and surprise her daughter by actually keeping her promise this time.

12:00 p.m. WOOHP Headquarters, Research & Development Department

Sam continued to type away codes into her laptop with a large coffee at her side. As much as she loved being a spy, she had to admit that working behind the scenes in WOOHP was a different kind of interesting and utilized her education and academic interests. In university, Sam double-majored in Engineering and Physics because she believed those fields of knowledge would give her an edge on her spy career as well as keep her options open if she ever wanted to leave WOOHP. However, after her undergraduate studies, at the tender age of 22, Sam became pregnant and had to re-think her life choices. Her decisions no longer only affected her – she was responsible for another life and had to act accordingly. She left her line of duty and backed up her friends from home-base when she could. With help from her parents and friends, she pursued a successful Master's degree in engineering and joined WOOHP's gadgets lab, working primarily in the research and development department while being a single mom.

It was only a matter of time before she and her team updated the security system and she could go back to having her main focus be her daughter.

Sam looked over the designs for the new iris and full-face identification system and sighed. She'd spent the past 5 months or so with her team trying to figure out how to create a completely new and intricate security system for WOOHP and it was no easy feat. The previous system had been in place for several years until Jerry realized the necessity for a complete overhaul. She'd been up the past few days making modifications to the designs and doing the coding for the interface.

Sam took a sip of her coffee and saw Clover and Alex walking towards her. Considering she was no longer a spy and had a daughter, while Clover was married and Alex lived with her boyfriend, it was surprising the amount of time these friends were still able to spend together.

"Sammie!" Clover and Alex called, waving to the redhead.

"Hey, girls. How'd the hunt go?"

"It was a complete dud. The lead didn't pan out," Clover said.

"Yeah, we just got back this morning. Hopefully, Jerry's found something useful this time." Alex frowned. "What about you, how's the security?"

Sam got up and stretched. "A week or two and it should be up and running."

"But what if we find you-know-who before then?" Clover offered.

"Clover, he's not Voldemort," Alex said while laughing.

"Might as well be. Honestly, I'm getting seriously sick of Tim Scam. What the hell do we need to do to keep him in prison?"

Sam pondered. "I don't know, keep ten guards positioned outside his cell at all times? And you know, the project I've been slaving over for the past month?"

Alex laughed. "Let's hope that's all it takes. In any case, Jerry's needs us in his office."

The three girls made their way over to Jerry. It had been a while since Sam was WOOHPed, she tried to remember the feeling of it.

"Clover," she said latching her arm around her friend. "My six-year-old daughter wants to wear lip gloss. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"She has a more acute sense of cosmetics than her mother?" she replied, earning her a playful push.

"She's like a mini you Clover, you should see her picking out her clothes." Sam pulled Clover and Alex into a hug, saying, "But thanks girls, especially for the calls. She's always happy when she gets off the phone with you guys. It's nice to know that she can talk to you guys freely."

"Sammie," Alex said, "Mare's a great kid."

"Yeah," Clover chimed in. They entered Jerry's office and sat down on the red velvet couch. "Sad that it's been a while since we—

"Girls, I have news," Jerry cut in while getting up from behind his desk. He pulled up a few blurry pictures onto the large screen behind him. "We have something of a lead on Scam. As you know, his current escape has been his longest, having evaded WOOHP for almost seven years now. WOOHP intelligence and security have, however, captured what we assume to be pictures of him." He gestured to the screen. "These pictures were taken on the outskirts of the Beverly Hills area three days ago. Looks like Scam, doesn't it? Facial recognition software confirms that it is. In any case, it's safe to assume he's still in the area. I currently have agents going through security footage around the area, investigating his old haunts, and following other leads. Unfortunately, Scam has continued his unusual practice of laying low and shown zeros signs of activity so locating him hasn't been easy.

"What do you want us to do, Jerry?" Alex asked.

"Ugh, boring groundwork, obviously," Clover said.

"At this point, the investigation will continue to be conducted by our other officers. You two," he gestured towards Alex and Clover, "will sit tight until we procure some real leads. For now, I only wanted to make you aware of the situation as it is and to warn you."

"Because Scam might come after us, huh?"

"Exactly, Clover."

While Clover and Alex discussed a possible course of action with Jerry, Sam privately ruminated on Scam's final days in captivity before he escaped years ago. When she last saw him, after his formal hearing, he swore he would get his revenge—that she would personally suffer for what she'd done to him. After his escape, WOOHP and the spies were frantic about finding him and returning him to prison. A long time had passed, months, and he was nowhere to be found. He hadn't made a peep in years. They grew passive and Sam slowly let go of her own nervousness. She put her past with Tim Scam behind her—well, at least, the dangerous part of it. But now, with his reappearance, Sam was more anxious than ever. She was scared for WOOHP, her friends, herself, but more than anything she was scared for her daughter. Did Scam know about her? Would he go after her if he did? What if he knew—

But her thoughts were interrupted by Jerry calling her name. "Sam, what's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing, just a little worried."

"About Scam?" Clover asked.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"We're all a little worried, Sam. Don't worry, though, we'll catch him. We always have."

"Except we haven't, not in the seven years he's been out there."

"Well…"

"This is about Mare, isn't it?" Clover put her hand on Sam's and gave it a small squeeze. "We'll make sure she's safe. Nothing will happen to her, Sam."

"That goes for all of your families, ladies. Blaine will be notified of the latest developments, Clover, and it's your responsibility to explain the severity of this situation to Jackson, Alex.

Alex groaned. "That is NOT going to be a good conversation."

"Guys, I think I'm done for the day. I should go and pick up Marie from the picnic," Sam said.

"Mind if I come with? It'll keep my mind off of the fight I will mostly likely have with Jackson when I get home." Jackson, Alex's boyfriend of four years, already hated her dangerous vocation.

The three women made their way out of Jerry's office after the briefing. Even though she wasn't through with the day's work, Sam had decided she would go to the picnic anyway to make sure Marie was safe and to update Dean on the Scam situation, she would deal with the rest later.

Sam gave Alex a small smile and a side hug. None of them ever quite understood how hard it would be to date someone outside of WOOHP when they were teenagers. Clover was the only one who'd managed to snag a guy who knew exactly what she was going through and had the capacity to support her.

"I'll come to. I haven't talked to Mare in so long, what if she's slowly transitioning back into being like her boring mother?"

Clover and Alex laughed and even had Sam going for a bit. "Firstly, I'm super cool, Clover. And second, you constantly call the house. Or have you forgotten that you talked to Mare yesterday?"

Clover slowly stopped laughing. "What are you talking about? I haven't called the house in two weeks—Alex and I just got back from our mission this morning. You know that."

 _"That's true,"_ Sam thought. She was perplexed. Mare had definitely told Sam that she'd talked to Clover yesterday. "Alex, did you talk to Mare yesterday?"

Alex looked a little worried. "Er…Sam, I didn't, at least … not recently."

 _"Why did Mare lie to me? Who was she…"_ Then it hit her.

It also hit Clover and Alex, who became deathly quiet and looked at Sam with a dread that paled in comparison to her own. They knew exactly what was going through her head—or so they thought.

Sam could feel her legs buckling underneath her. Now, more than ever, she was terrified for daughter and what was to come.

And then her cell rang.

XXXX

XXXX

Marie played a game of tag with some of her classmates while the parents chatted by the picnic tables. While playing, she kept an eye on Dean who had been dutifully by her side for the first hour until he was physically pulled into a conversation with a couple of doe-eyed moms and bemused husbands. He looked back at her a few times, apologetically, until she smiled and waved at him and set his mind at ease; he looked back less often.

Marie was a relatively fast runner, better than most of her classmates, so she was able to avoid being caught even at the last second. This allowed her some time to keep a close eye on the teachers as well, who were barbequing, organizing and running the games, and chatting to parents. She was determined to be patient, to wait until she was sure no one would notice—and then she would make her escape! Nothing too fancy, of course not, just a small break from the picnic, her classmates, and her classmates' moms and dads. A small break from Dean, who she loved, but who was not her Dad—a fact that every child and adult here knew and, whether intentionally or not, rubbed in her face. Worse yet, her mother still wasn't here. In her mind, there were only two possible outcomes to her disappearance: either she would return before anyone noticed her absence, or she would be caught, scolded, and in turn her mother would realize that she needed to pay more attention to her. It was a win win either way.

In Marie's defense, she was right in thinking that this little act would provoke her mother to pay more attention to her.

At one point, the game of tag turned intense, children were laughing and screaming as they traversed large swathes of the school playground to avoid being tagged. In the excited chaos, Marie saw her opportunity and made a run for it. She headed towards some nearby bushes and hid for a few minutes to catch her breath and make sure no one called out to her. Slowly, she made her way towards the more forested section of the playground and from there exited through the back gate. Usually, the gate was locked but today it was kept open so that families could come and go with ease. Once outside, she walked for a bit until she spotted her favourite bench and sat down with a slump. Marie wasn't much of an artist but she grabbed a stick near her foot and started drawing in the sand. She made two smiling figures, one small and one large, and signed a little sadly. She didn't dwell on her sadness to long, however, because a shadow fell across her sand drawing. Briefly, she hoped it was her mother, but when she looked up she realized she didn't recognize the grown-up standing over her. She wondered if he was one of the parents.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi."

A small smile formed on his face as he stepped back a little and leaned on the fence beside Marie. She watched him tentatively the entire time.

They looked at each other for a moment before he said, still smiling, "I'm looking for someone, maybe you could help me?"

XXXX

XXXX

Dean's voice was husky and strained as it came through the phone. He'd been running. "Sam," he said with a heavy exhale, "I can't find Mare." 

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At this point I'd be screaming 'STRANGER DANGER but that's not quite the case here. Let's hope that second last scene wasn't too creepy.

In other news, based on reader response this fic will be updated sometime in May-chapter 2 is already in the works. As well, expect an update on my other 2 fics as well (Befriending the Enemy, Her Changing Circumstances) in the next 4 months. Please REVIEW and let me know what you think is going to happen and whether you like this story or not. Constructive criticism is welcome :) Also, leave a comment about which of my other two fics you'd like to be updated first.

PS. What's Sam hiding? Any guesses? :D


	2. Chapter 2

**What's this?! My first update in 2ish years?! O.O**

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 **Chapter 2:**

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"I'm looking for someone, maybe you could help me?"

Her shock of red hair and the way she played with it, and the look of her was unmistakable—she was Sam's daughter.

"I—I think I should go back to the picnic."

Marie got up to leave—she knew better than to talk to strangers—until the man told her that he knew her mother and was looking for her.

"You are Sam's daughter, aren't you?" The slightly pained look on his face seemed genuine to Marie.

"Yeah," she said as she slowly sat back down. There was something about him, Marie thought, which felt oddly familiar.

He crouched next to the bench and offered her a hand. "My name's Tim."

Marie grinned as she took it. "You're the guy that called yesterday."

"Yeah, that was me. Did you tell your mom I called?" He'd phoned Sam's house on a whim, again, but immediately regretted the slip up—again. However, a part of him always hoped that Sam would pick up and was tormented when she did. He never said anything though—that's where he drew the line—and would hang up shortly after. He was relieved when her daughter answered instead. Sometimes, the girl would talk into the phone even when he failed to answer; it was amusing but quite troubling as well. Yesterday, he decided to finally talk to her.

Marie looked at her feet. "Um…no. I-I forgot. I'm sorry."

"Don't be, I wanted to surprise her in person anyway." She'd told him on the phone that both mother and daughter would be attending the annual Father's Day picnic at her school. This was his chance, Tim thought, to finally summon his courage and see Sam after all these years, to make sure that he hated her as much as he had convinced himself he did.

He paused and then pointed at the drawing in the sand. "Nice handiwork."

"It's stupid."

"No, it's not. I really like it. Is it a family portrait?"

A small smile played on Marie's lips. She scooted closer to Tim and used the stick to point at the figures. "This big one is my mom and this smaller one is me."

"That's nice. What about your dad, I don't see him in the picture?"

Tim watched as the little girl's smile faded. She drew another figure next to her own. "He's not, but," she said as she drew, "this is my dad…and he'd be the best dad ever, I'm sure of that."

Tim looked at the drawing. "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"He's not dead or anything, if that's what you're thinking. I just…don't know him yet."

"Oh." Tim was a little confused. He turned back to the girl and caught her staring at him. When he noticed the green of her eyes, perhaps the only thing that didn't resemble her mother, he was stunned; thoughts began to flood his mind. He tried, with difficulty, to voice the question that lay at the forefront of his consciousness. "How old are you?"

"Six." She paused. "Are you the person that keeps calling my house but never says anything?"

"Huh? Oh, um, yeah, that's me. It's a chronic illness, sorry." He tried to compose himself. "When were you born? The date, I mean."

"December 15th."

 _"_ _That—that can't be right. It's impossible, isn't it?"_ Even as Tim denied the possibility, his thoughts raced to fit the pieces together. The timing was about right.

"Are you my dad?"

The bluntness of that question was enough to pull Tim Scam out of his thoughts. He looked at her for a second before answering: "Uh…no, no I'm not."

"Are you sure? You hesitated. My grandpa says that when people hesitate and take too long to answer a question it's because they have to think about what they're gonna say. It's an easy question that you should know the answer to," Marie said a little haughtily.

A rueful smile crossed his face. He said a little angrily, "You'd think so." He looked at her drawing again. Was he her father? The question—the possibility—lit a fire within his chest.

"You…" Tim looked up and Marie brought her hand up close enough to touch his face and peered intently into his eyes, all of which startled Tim. "Your eyes kinda look like mine."

They did, he had to admit. "Yeah, they kinda do." Tim tried to compose himself and forced a smile. "But that's just a coincidence."

He got up and Marie scooched over to make room for him on the bench. "I don't believe in coincidences," she said.

"Oh?" While Tim tried to organize and compartmentalize the questions and thoughts swirling in his mind he couldn't help but be amused with the little girl.

"Yeah, I think everything happens for a reason." Marie smiled and swung her feet. "That you called yesterday and talked to me and came here and that your eyes are like mine. None of it is meaningless."

"You're six?" Tim asked, a little stunned but chuckling nonetheless.

"Mom says I'm really smart for my age. She says it runs in the family."

"I wonder about that."

"Yeah, my mom is like a scientist or something. She's always working. What do you do, Tim?"

"I'm something of an engineer and scientist myself."

"Oh, cool."

The little girl seemed to be thinking as she looked at her primitive family portrait. Her silence prompted Tim to think about his next course of action. Circumstances had shifted drastically, and he could no longer just see Sam and say all the things he'd kept to himself all these years. He also couldn't demand answers and expect to be told the truth.

Tim sat down on the bench and wondered if Sam's daughter would answer his questions truthfully. He wondered how he could get her to trust him—did the possible father angle make him a more trusting figure in her eyes?

"It really is too bad your mother isn't here, Marie" he said remembering her name from their phone call, "I was looking forward to seeing her after all these years. We're good friends, you know."

"She's never mentioned you, you know." Marie smiled mischievously.

"I—" But Tim couldn't stop himself, he began laughing. Loudly at first until he was softly smiling. "Is your mum a secretive person, usually?"

"Hmm, I've never thought about that. I guess so. She never talks about my dad. Is that why she's never mentioned you? Because you're my dad?"

This girl knew how to pull a 180, Tim thought. Was she a sad kid? How closely did she feel her father's absence?

"I'm sorry, I don't know how to answer that."

"Is it a possibility?"

"It's a possibility."

Tim had to admit, giving more thought and weight to the idea made this warmth he couldn't quite describe emanate from his heart and spread throughout his chest. The sort of life he led, orphaned at first, working at WOOHP, all those terrible things he'd done and constantly being on the run and escaping jail (it all sounds very ludicrous in retrospect), he never, for one second, believed he could have a family. That sort of happiness was for normal people, not him. The possibility that the little girl beside him—no doubt her mother's daughter yet resembling him in some ways too—could be his daughter dared him to dream of a normal, happy life. Was this a turning point for him? Did he finally have something to fight for, to live for? Or was he being an idiot—would this happiness crumble as easily as all the other joys in his life did?

"Why doesn't my mom talk about you?" She was looking at her drawing once again, a sullen look on her face that pulled Tim out of his own thoughts. "There must be a reason…mom might not tell me everything but I know she wouldn't lie to me just cuz."

"Your mom and I," he said while looking at her, "had a big fight. We haven't talked since."

Marie turned to look at Tim with an unbearably forlorn expression that sent pangs throughout his chest. Her pain reminded him of his own. He hadn't known his own parents for very long, they'd passed when he was still a child. He'd thought about the men and women in his life who he'd tried to substitute for the absence of his parents—none ever came close, except for an old mentor, but that was a tragedy for another time.

"Maybe you can talk when she gets here. If she gets here."

"If?"

"She's at work. She said she'd try to come later…but she always says that and never does."

Tim got the feeling that Marie was slightly over-exaggerating but the pain and disappointment from many broken promises was visible on her face. "Who did you come with, then?"

"Mom's work friend, uncle Dean. When mom's busy with work, he usually takes care of me. Well, not just him. There's grandma and grandpa—they babysit most—then Auntie Clover and Uncle Blaine, and Auntie Alex and Jackson," she counted on her hands.

"I see. But Marie," Tim continued, trying to choose his words wisely, "if Sam—if your Mom does come, she won't want to see me. Actually, she won't want you to see me anymore—she'd keep you away."

 _Was that true?_ Marie wondered. Tears started forming in her eyes. Her mom avoided talking about her dad so maybe she did want to keep him away from her. But why would her mom do something so mean?

"Hey, hey, don't cry," Tim said as he tried to halt the flow of tears, he didn't intend to make her cry. He tentatively patted the girl's head trying to sooth her. "Your mom isn't bad," _but wasn't she_? "She's just…scared."

"Scared of you?" the girl asked while wiping her teary eyes.

"Scared of what might happen if I really was your dad—scared that I might want to be in your life."

"Do you want to be my dad?"

"I would consider myself very lucky to be your dad," Tim said with a smile but in return received another sad look. "What's wrong?"

In a small and sad voice Marie said, "If you want to be my dad—even if you're not sure you are—why didn't you come looking for me? To make sure? The first time you said anything was yesterday on the phone—all those other times you were quite." She looked up at Tim, "Do you really want to be me my dad or are you lying?"

Tim paused.

"The truth is; I didn't know you existed. I never imagined that I had a daughter somewhere, waiting for me." He paused again, then continued. "You know, I lost both my parents when I was only a little older than you, and I miss them to this day. I would never want my child to go through the same pain that I experienced." Tim softly lifted Marie's chin to stare intently into her sea-foam green eyes. "If I'd known about you Marie, I would have been there no matter what."

This earned Tim a small but genuine smile. He took both of her small hands into his. "Marie, do you trust me?"

The little girl paused for a moment, thinking. "Yes," she said with a grin from ear to ear.

"Thank you. I think I know how to convince your mom to talk to me, but for that you'll have to leave this picnic and come with me. Can you do that?"

"Can I ask mom first?"

"Unfortunately, my plan won't work if you do. Your mom, I know her all too well. She used to be incredibly brave and fearless, sometimes to a fault, but very quickly she became anxious—scared—and her finding out about my plan too soon—it'll ruin it. She'll push me away from your life believing that she's protecting you but she won't be, she'll be hurting you. It might make it impossible for both of us to ever know whether I'm your father or not. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Marie looked down at her shoes and swung her dangling legs slightly and nodded. "So… you're going to kidnap me?"

The bluntness of the declaration caught Tim a little off guard. He was really trying not to make it sound like kidnapping (even though it kind of was but can you kidnap your own possible child?) and was hoping Marie wouldn't think it was either. Of course, he should have known that she was too smart to naively come along with him.

"Maybe, if you're okay with it? Not for long—just for a day of two. To give us enough time to make some distance and get to know each other better. I'll call your mom when we're far enough and she'll come pick you up, and hopefully give both of us some answers."

"That sounds…" Marie looked up, "amazing! My **dad** is gonna kidnap me! Yippee! I have a dad! I've always wanted to go on a road trip and-and to Coney Island—can we go to Coney Island?!" Marie was excited and clutched at Tim's arm expectantly.

"Unfortunately, that's almost a two-day drive from here, but we could go to a much closer amusement park?"

"Okay… I guess it's kinda the same…" Marie slumped a little but continued smiling.

"Sorry kid, maybe next time?" Tim said with a side smirk.

"You think there'll be a next time?"

"I hope so."

"Me too, but I'm not too too worried."

"Oh, and why's that?"

"I'm pretty sure you're my dad, I can feel it in my bones." Marie slapped her thighs and both potential father and daughter laughed.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this plan? You'll be away from your mom for a couple of days and she'll be worried sick."

"I'm pretty used to being away from Mom… Anyway, let's go before Dean comes looking for me!"

Before Tim could say anything else, Marie got up and pulled him to his feet, running to the school parking lot where she was sure their getaway car awaited. She looked forward to the road trip and killing two birds with one stone: spending time with her father and provoking her mother into paying more attention to her.

* * *

I really hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and I'm soooooo sorry for this massive break I've taken in updating my stories. Life gets in the way, sometimes for better or for worse. Please **review** and let me know what you think! I've become a lot busier (just graduated) and I'm wondering if there is enough audience interest to make it worth continuing any of my stories. I'll put a poll up (once I figure out how to do that) to see which story (if any) to update next :)

 **P.S.: SO. MUCH. POTENTIAL. STRANGER. DANGER.** If this wasn't my story and my version of Scam, this would be so creepy. Remember kids (do kids read this?) stay away from strangers!


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